


Unspoken

by nancypants (cah_avengers)



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Blood and Violence, M/M, Some day I’ll write something for wolf 359 that’s isnt purely self-indulgent, Trans Male Character, my only explanation is that i rly loved that one scene in the punisher, theres smut, thougt it’d work beautifully for these two, trans Jacobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 14:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13056198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cah_avengers/pseuds/nancypants
Summary: With shaking hands, he finds his flashlight, his gun, his knife. Can’t leave evidence behind, Kepler always says.





	Unspoken

His ears are ringing. He had been too close to the charges when he’d received the order to detonate and now his head is pounding. He had known there would be complications, but there hadn’t been time to move further away.

_I said, do it now, Jacobi!_

He’s running back to rendezvous with Maxwell and Kepler, gun gripped firmly and held aloft, guiding his way. As the transformer blows and the lights all blink out, Daniel clicks on his flashlight, holds it with his gun the way Kepler showed him how.

He can’t hear; he doesn’t know what’s coming. He’s terrified this is going to be the thing that gets him killed. If Maxwell is picking up heat signatures, trying to warn him, he doesn’t know. His earpiece might be vibrating with sound, but he might be imagining it.

When a body rounds the corner ahead of him, casting long shadows down the corridor, Daniel flinches, slides his finger into place on his trigger.

The man is coming toward him, eyes squinting against his flashlight. Is he asking for help?

Daniel doesn’t know. He can’t read lips. But the man is coming closer and Daniel panics.

He pulls the trigger.

The man’s eyes widen and a hand moves to grab the new wound in his shoulder.

Daniel recognizes the struggle of fight or flight in the man’s eyes.

The man looks scared, but his brow furrows, his jaw clenches, and he runs forward.

Daniel stumbles back a couple steps and squeezes off two more rounds. One bullet tears through the man’s outstretched hand. He doesn’t know where the other went because the man is only a few feet away now which Daniel didn’t expect.

The man slams into him and Daniel loses his grip on his gun. He must have screamed when his head hit the wall but he still can’t hear it.

The flashlight falls, sending the light bouncing around. When it settles, all that is illuminated is the man’s outline. He’s ducking, grabbing Daniel around the waist and pinning him to the wall. Daniel knows he’s going to take the gun if he gets an opportunity, and he can’t let that happen. He can’t die here, shot with his own weapon.

He knees the man in the ribs as hard as he can. It’s not much at this angle, but it’s enough. The man stumbles back, looks down as his foot clips the gun and sends it skittering a half a foot away.

Daniel follows his gaze, sees the gun, knows he can’t reach it first.

As the man looks back up at him, Daniel unsheathes his knife and lunges forward. He throws his weight against him, sending him backward.

They land heavy on the ground and Daniel can’t stop to think about how the impact made his ribs ache. He scrambles to his knees, straddles the man. He lifts his knife but the man’s bloody hands come up, tangle everything up.

He wants to end this. He wants it to be easy.

He grabs one of the man’s wrists, tries to yank it away so he has a clear target. But Daniel has never been very strong. The man’s arms are free and he’s clawing at Daniel, tearing at his sleeves, pushing against his neck and face, streaking blood across Daniel’s unblemished skin. Daniel can taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. Fortunately, the man’s dominant hand is the one that has a bullet through it. He’s too weak to wrest the knife away from Daniel.

Daniel brings the knife down into the man’s bicep, tearing through muscle until he hits bone.

The man’s mouth opens in a scream. That arm is useless now.

Daniel fumbles with the man’s weak arm, manages to subdue it long enough to drive the knife down into his chest.

The shock and pain is obvious on the man’s face, but Daniel forces himself to focus. To keep sinking his knife into its target until the struggling stops. Until the ends of his sleeves are soaked in blood.

Sound is coming back. There’s the sound of fire and collapse in the building. And there’s a choked sobbing.

Daniel drops his knife and wraps his blood stained hands around the man’s throat to stop the noise. He’s dead; he shouldn’t be making any noise.

When Daniel realizes the sound is his own, he yanks himself away from the man so abruptly that he falls back onto the floor.

With shaking hands, he finds his flashlight, his gun, his knife. Can’t leave evidence behind, Kepler always says.

He stands, braces an arm against the wall as he guides himself outside, out of the suffocating heat of the building.

It’s cold and snow is falling and catching in Jacobi’s lashes and he looks up.

It’s ash.

“Jacobi!”

Kepler and Maxwell are off to his right, just inside the tree line. He runs to them.

Once he’s in range and Maxwell can see the state of him, she jumps down from the Jeep, grabs his shoulders.

“What happened?! Are you hurt?!”

Before Daniel can respond, Maxwell is gently but firmly pushed aside and now hands are cradling his face, tilting it up toward the light.

“Is any of this your blood?” Kepler asks.

He doesn’t think so, so Daniel shakes his head no.

Kepler looks worried. He studies Daniel’s face for a moment before staring past him toward the burning building.

“We need to move.” Then the hands are gone and Kepler throws open the driver’s door, gets in the car.

Maxwell tugs Daniel forward, urges him up into the back seat before taking her place beside him.

  
Kepler gives up on asking him any questions halfway through their drive to the hotel. It’s fruitless.

Maxwell’s hand is covered in blood now too, gripping Daniel’s tightly. She doesn’t look at or talk to him. She just stares ahead, watches the road, talks occasionally to Kepler.

He asks her questions about his state. Asks if he’s looking any better. She answers, it’s always the same.

Her constant presence at his side and the firm grip on his hand keep him from thinking too much. He focuses on her, wonders if her job went smoothly.

Maxwell wants to take Daniel to his room, to encourage him to clean himself, put fresh clothes on. But Kepler orders her to her own room and takes the task upon himself.

This is preferable to Daniel. He doesn’t want to look so weak and pitiful in front of his best friend. He doesn’t want this to be her burden.

He allows Kepler to remove his weapons and clothes, sit him in a warm bath.

Daniel wraps his arms around his knees and shivers, staring ahead at the wall.

Kepler’s holding a washcloth, rubbing away the blood from Daniel’s arms and chest where it soaked through his clothes. The water is growing steadily more pink.

Daniel closes his eyes when Kepler reaches his neck, strokes the rough material over his skin.

Kepler leaves for a moment and Daniel opens his eyes, watches as he returns with something softer, a T-shirt maybe.

Kepler situates himself back on his knees alongside the tub, wets the shirt, and begins to clean Daniel’s face. He starts at his lips and moves outwards, removing splatter from his nose and cheeks, and finger shaped streaks from his jaw.

Daniel has been watching Kepler, studying the furrow in his brow, the set of his mouth as he focuses.

Now Kepler is reaching into the water and he pulls the plug from the drain. He wipes his arm on a clean towel and then his hand is cradling the back of Daniel’s neck, thumb stroking his cheek. “Let that drain, then rinse yourself off…take your time.”

Daniel nods and watches Kepler push himself to his feet and leave.

There’s a towel and a change of clothes waiting for him.

Daniel dries his hair, starts to feel a sinking in his stomach. What happened was his fault. He had been behind schedule. It was his fault he was too close once time was out. It was his fault he couldn’t shoot the man in the head and avoid this mess.

He feels like a failure. He’s better than this. These are rookie mistakes.

When he walks out into his room, he finds that Kepler has already left, most likely gone back to his own.

He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like when Kepler leaves him alone on difficult nights. It’s always a punishment, a sign of his disappointment and frustration. He can’t stand it when Kepler is anything less than pleased with him.

Daniel curls up in bed and pins his hands under his arms to stop them shaking.

He tries so hard to think of anything else, but soon all Daniel can see is the panicked look on the man’s face, the quickly spreading pool of blood on his chest, the open, raw wounds in his hand and arm. He can still feel the soft, yielding throat beneath his hands.

He has never so intimately murdered someone before tonight.

The door opens and Daniel startles.

Kepler has returned. He locks the door behind himself and drops his bag on the floor.

Daniel feels immediate relief at his presence. Maybe he’s not angry. Maybe he _is_ angry but has enough pity for him to stay anyway. It doesn’t really matter.

Daniel is out of bed a moment later, his hands reaching to push the coat off of his shoulders.

Kepler lets Daniel kiss him. Lets him remove the jacket and unbuckle his belt.

Daniel is grateful for the tasks; they keep his mind busy. They keep his hands busy and all he feels now is the slide of fabric and the cool metal of Kepler’s belt buckle on his fingers. He licks into Kepler’s mouth, tastes whiskey on his tongue. He hears the rustle of clothes, the creak of leather, Kepler’s breathing mixed with his own.

He’s grateful this thing between them is such a wonderful distraction. He can’t think when Kepler’s hands are on his hips, thumbs sliding beneath his shirt to brush against sensitive skin.

Daniel buries a hand in Kepler’s hair and tugs him closer, bites his lips. He needs the gentleness to give way to something more.

Kepler is familiar with Daniel’s hints. His hands no longer stroke and tease, they grab and take. His mouth finds Daniel’s neck, leaving crescent shaped welts and dark bruises that reach up beneath his ear.

Daniel finally speaks, and his disused voice rasps like he’s just woken up. “Please…I need you to fuck me.”

Kepler is hard against Daniel’s hip, he moans against Daniel’s ear. He’s always rather enjoyed when Daniel talks like that.

Daniel waits for some lewd comment, some cocky line, but it never comes. He’s turned around and bent over the bed.

Daniel groans and grabs a pillow. He holds it tight, leans his head against it and trembles in anticipation.

He listens as Kepler’s fly is undone, a condom is unwrapped, his pants fall to the floor. Then Kepler’s hands are stroking up the back of his thighs, over his ass, and up the small of his back.

Daniel sighs and sinks further into the pillow.

Kepler grabs Daniel’s waistband and tugs it down. Daniel frees one leg and lets his briefs fall down around his ankle. He’s so wet and he has to resist the urge to press back against Kepler, beg him to get on with it.

Kepler’s left hand is grabbing his hip tightly; Daniel hopes it’ll bruise. Two fingers of his right hand dip into Daniel’s wetness and then circle his clit.

“Jesus, Jacobi…”

Daniel moans and closes his eyes. “Please…” he manages, “I need you.”

Kepler presses into him, nearly seats himself inside of Daniel in his first stroke.

Daniel bites his lip and whines at the hint of pain that accompanies the sudden stretch. But he’s used to this, it’s what he wants. He reaches back, grabs Kepler’s wrist in their practiced ‘I’m okay, don’t stop’ signal.

Kepler nearly pulls out before he rocks into Daniel again, slowly, until he’s as deep as possible.

It’s torturous. Daniel loves nothing more to be teased and fucked slowly until he’s begging to come under the right circumstances. But right now, he just wants it fast and rough.

His grip on Kepler’s wrist tightens, he throws his hips back, makes a sound of frustration. He’s already said please twice; he can’t bear to beg him again.

Fortunately, Kepler is feeling generous.

Daniel gasps when Kepler suddenly gives him what he wants, abandoning his controlled strokes for a more demanding, messy pace. His hair is being pulled and Daniel can’t help the noises he’s making now.

Maxwell must be able to hear them, but he knows she won’t say anything in the morning.

All traces of gentle are gone, Kepler fucks him hard, fast, presses down on the small of his back to hit the right angle. It makes it feel that much sweeter when he holds Daniel in place by his hair, buries himself fully inside of him.

Daniel whimpers and trembles, waiting for him to return to his bruising pace. But Kepler waits, lets Daniel appreciate the sensation of having his cock seated deep inside of him.

“Warren…”

Kepler groans and resumes fucking him into the mattress. He returns the favor, calling Daniel by his first name as his rhythm stutters.

Daniel can’t wait any longer and he whispers, “don’t stop.” He slips his hand between his legs and rubs his clit in time to Kepler’s thrusts, reaching orgasm quickly. He comes hard and revels in the feeling of Kepler losing control, grip slipping as he struggles to last as long as he can.

Daniel manages to turn his head in time, watch as Kepler finally comes undone. He looks fucking gorgeous when he comes, brow furrowed and eyes closed, lips parted.

When Kepler finally pulls out, Daniel feels too exhausted to move. He stays bent over the bed while Kepler disposes of his condom.

He focuses on the warmth spreading through his body, reaching his fingertips, the ache in his hips, the tingle in his scalp.

Finally, when Kepler places a hand on Daniel’s back, he’s roused into action. He slowly stands and pulls on his briefs. His legs feel weak, but he manages not to shake.

He crawls back into bed and his chest is tight as he waits to see what Kepler will do. He can never predict if he’ll stay, but he leaves room on the other side of the bed anyway.

Kepler looks like he’s trying to decide for himself, and after a moment, leans down, grabs Daniel’s chin and kisses him.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” he says as they separate.

It’s the closest thing to affectionate that’s ever going to come out of his mouth. And even then, Daniel knows it’s because, contrary to what Kepler’s threats and lectures might imply, it’s not an easy task to replace an SI-5 agent.

A man who fucks up but manages to do his job and hold himself together for the most part is better than starting fresh with someone new.

Kepler takes his place in the bed and wordlessly, Daniel presses up against him. He wouldn’t normally do this; he’d wait for Kepler to initiate. But right now he needs the contact. He needs to feel muscles that still contract and respond, the rise and fall of a chest. Isolation will lead to too many thoughts, too many slow motion replays of earlier events. And he’s so tired. He just wants to sleep.

Kepler graciously holds him, says nothing about it, and Daniel falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> hahaaaa why do I like the idea of Warren literally wiping the blood from Daniel’s hands so much??
> 
> Also I accidentally stayed up until 2 am writing this so I’m v sorry if there are typos or mistakes ily


End file.
